


The Collision

by Persiflage



Category: Holby City
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bernie Wolfe: World's Okay-est Lesbian, Car Accidents, Christmas, Damsel in Distress, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Eventual Friends to Lovers, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Minor Injuries, Serena Campbell: Bisexual Extraordinaire, Winter Storms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:55:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28400508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflage/pseuds/Persiflage
Summary: Canon Divergence: Bernie Wolfe and Serena Campbell barely know each other. A car collision in a winter storm soon changes things between them.
Relationships: Serena Campbell & Bernie Wolfe, Serena Campbell/Bernie Wolfe
Comments: 10
Kudos: 66





	The Collision

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AncientMonument](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AncientMonument/gifts).



> Written for AncientMonument who, in their fic [Keeping the Dream Alive](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28095618), expressed a desire to see 'Damsel in Distress' Bernie. This was the nearest I could get to that so I hope it's acceptable.

Major Bernie Wolfe (retd) has barely seconds in which to react when she sees the fallen tree lying across the road, but she has twenty five years of reacting fast to trauma situations, so she twists the steering wheel hard to the side, aware that she may well skid on the wet road but knowing equally well that standing on her brakes would be a more dangerous reaction. Her car, her fairly new and utterly delightful (and some would argue utterly impractical) sports car, does indeed skid on the storm slicked tarmac, but she does her best to control the car’s skid, steering into it, rather than trying to steer out of it. She sees trees looming up out of the darkness in the car’s headlights and winces for the damage that they will undoubtedly do to the car. She does her best to keep her limbs relaxed rather than bracing for the imminent impact, well aware that a relaxed body will sustain somewhat less damage than a rigidly braced one. The car crashes slightly sideways into the sturdy trunk of a pine tree and Bernie’s forehead impacts violently with the steering wheel when, despite her best efforts, her body is thrown forward by the force of the collision.

She doesn’t realise she’s blacked out until she feels a hand clasping her shoulder and hears a worried, somewhat familiar, voice saying her name.

“Major Wolfe.” There’s a tone to the voice that tells her that this isn’t the first time the speaker has said her name.

Bernie makes an affirmative noise because she hasn’t quite gathered sufficient wits to respond more coherently.

“It’s Serena,” says the vaguely familiar voice. 

“S’r’na?” she repeats, trying to think who that might be.

“Yes, Serena Campbell, clinical lead on AAU.”

“Oh. Yes.” Bernie slowly and carefully pushes her body backwards, wincing at the pain in her head.

“I was behind you on the road,” Serena says. “Far enough back that I saw the crash and had time to stop safely before hitting the tree myself.”

“Good.” Bernie says, somewhat vaguely. 

“Are you hurt?” Serena asks, and Bernie turns towards her, finally, and is somewhat startled by how loudly the brunette gasps at the sight of her face. “That’s not good.”

“What?” Bernie asks, reaching up as she realises her face feels sticky. “Ugh.”

Serena gives her a wide-eyed look. “‘Ugh’?” she repeats disbelievingly. “That’s all you have to say.”

Bernie frowns at her, then winces when that hurts her temple. “Words. Processing. Trouble.” She wants to scrub a hand over her face but doesn’t want to smear blood across it. She lets go of the steering wheel and clenches her hands into fists, making herself focus on the sharp sting of her fingernails biting into the soft flesh of her palms (although her nails aren’t really long enough to dig deep, perils of being a surgeon, after all). 

“Sorry. That bump on the head addled my brain somewhat,” she says, and is pleased by how articulate she’s able to be. “There’s a First Aid kit in my boot and a couple of those hazard warning triangles. Would you mind putting the triangles on the road? Well, you might have to put one of them on the tree trunk as I’m not sure you’ll be able to get past the tree to put one on the other side of the tree. But better put one behind your car before any more cars come along and crash into it.”

“Good thinking, Major.”

“And if you could give me the First Aid kit before you disburse the triangles, I can clean up this blood.”

“Of course.” Serena squeezes her shoulder firmly, which Bernie appreciates as the gesture grounds her. She’s suddenly having a flashback of a roadside IED exploding, turning her world literally as well as metaphorically upside down when the vehicle she was in rolled as a consequence of the explosion and she ended up severely injured and upside down in an Afghan poppy field. 

“Don’t go for a moment,” she gets out through gritted teeth. “Please.”

To her relief, Serena maintains her clasp on Bernie’s shoulder, squeezing it a couple of times. “Flashback?” she asks, and Bernie is startled by how relieved she feels at the other woman’s comprehension of the situation without her needing to explain.

“Yeah,” Bernie says hoarsely. She breathes in through her nose and exhales out through her mouth a few times until the flood of memories subsides and she can focus on the here and now. “Thanks.”

Serena gives her a somewhat shaky smile, then a final squeeze of her shoulder. “Okay now?” 

“Yes. Thank you.”

“Any time,” Serena says with a less shaky smile. She pats Bernie’s arm, then gets to her feet and the blonde remembers to pop her boot so that Serena can open it. A few moments later she hands Bernie the First Aid kit with a comforting brush of her fingers against Bernie’s hand, then she walks off and puts one of the hazard warning triangles on the top of the fallen tree trunk, facing away from her so that drivers will see it as they approach from the other side of the tree. The second one she puts at some distance behind her car so that it will slow down anyone who comes up behind them.

When Serena returns, Bernie’s managed to clean the worst of the blood from her face, so far as she can tell from the view in the rear view mirror, although it’s not really light enough to see clearly.

“How are you?” asks Serena.

“Grumpy and sore,” Bernie answers honestly, which elicits a chuckle from the other woman.

“Look, I’m fairly sure you don’t want to go to the ED, and I can understand that. It’s never fun and even less so on a Friday night, but I’m concerned that you might have a concussion, so I think you should come back to mine once we’ve sorted out notifying the police about the tree and whichever car recovery service you’re signed up with so they can come and get your car.”

Bernie winces, then reaches for her satchel and pulls out her mobile phone. “Good point,” she says. “Would you mind calling the police while I call the RAC?”

“Of course.” Serena pulls out her phone, then takes a few steps away so that their conversations won’t be overlapping.

By the time that Bernie gets off the phone with the helpful and concerned woman at the RAC, she has a truly horrendous headache and is aware that her back, despite her best efforts to stay relaxed during the collision, is making itself felt.

Serena comes to crouch beside the car again. “I’ve spoken to the desk sergeant at the local police station and they’re going to get hold of the local council to do something about moving this tree. They’re also sending out a patrol car to enforce the warning triangles until the tree’s moved.”

“Okay. The RAC said they’ll have someone here within the hour.” Bernie looks at Serena. “Don’t feel you have to stay with me.”

“Nonsense,” Serena says briskly. “I told you, I think you should come back to my place until I’m certain you don’t have a concussion.” She stares at Bernie a while, then asks, “How’s the head?”

“I have a truly horrendous headache,” she admits.

“Have you taken anything?”

“Not yet.”

“Do you have any painkillers on you?”

“I do, but it’s not four hours since I last took them for my back, so I’ll just have to hang on and hope the headache doesn’t worsen before I can take some more.”

Serena reaches out and clasps Bernie’s forearm, and it occurs to the trauma surgeon that the other woman is very tactile and that she doesn’t actually mind; normally she’s pretty fussy about who puts their hands on her, which she suspects is an Army thing, not least because her late father was also in the Army, so she grew up unused to being touched.

They talk about work a little and then about family when Serena mentions that she’s glad that her nephew Jason, who is a porter at Holby City General Hospital, where they both work, is staying at his friend Allan’s for a few days and therefore won’t be at home fretting at the disruption to his schedule. 

“What about you, Major?” Serena asks. “Will anyone be wondering where you are?”

Bernie shakes her head, then immediately regrets it. “No. My divorce was finalised shortly before I started working at Holby. And both my grown up children live in other parts of the country: my son’s in London and my daughter’s in Durham. I don’t even have a cat. God, how pathetic is that?”

“I don’t think I’d call it pathetic, necessarily,” Serena says. “But it is a little sad.”

“Maybe I should get a cat,” Bernie muses. “Aren’t lesbians and cats supposed to go together?”

Serena’s expression undergoes several shifts too rapidly for Bernie to process before it finally settles on amusement, then she asks, “You’re a lesbian?”

“Um,” Bernie says, trying not to panic. Suppressing her sexuality has been a habit from a fairly young age and in fact she’d suppressed it even from herself until the arrival of a certain Captain Alex Dawson, anaesthetist, in her life. “Yes?” She hates how weak her voice sounds and how hard it is for her to meet Serena’s eyes with the admission.

Fortunately, Serena doesn’t leap to her feet and abandon Bernie to her fate. Instead, she squeezes Bernie’s arm, then slides her hand down to clasp her fingers. “I’m bisexual.”

The relief that floods through Bernie at this is a bit embarrassing for the blonde, but she can’t help how she feels. “Yeah?” she says, a bit of hope tingeing her response in spite of herself.

“Mmhmm.”

“Okay.”

Before the conversation can become any more awkward lights appear around the bend behind them and Serena gets to her feet, her hand slipping free of Bernie’s as she turns towards the source of the headlights, which rapidly resolve themselves into first an RAC tow truck, second an open backed truck from the city council with a woodchipper in the back, and third a police patrol car.

A young police officer appears at a jog, and establishes that Bernie is okay, then she confers with the council workers and the RAC driver, before they agree that Bernie can depart in Serena’s car first, then Bernie’s car will be removed, then the tree will be dealt with.

Bernie accepts Serena’s help to climb out of her car, grabbing her satchel from the passenger seat first. She can’t quite help groaning as she straightens up and her back yells its discontent.

“Are you alright?” asks Serena and the police officer, one PC Carter, simultaneously.

“Just my back protesting at moving,” Bernie says. To PC Carter she adds, “Prior injury. I don’t need to go to hospital, I assure you. I’m a trauma surgeon and Serena’s also a surgeon.”

“Okay,” PC Carter says. “Do you two ladies want to head off? Oh, I’d better take your contact details.” She pulls out a notebook and pencil, so Bernie gives her name and phone number, then allows Serena to help her to walk back to her car. The RAC driver immediately moves in to assess the state of Bernie’s car and she watches him as Serena carefully reverses her car back along the road until she’s able to turn around.

“I think that’s going to be an expensive repair job,” Bernie observes as Serena pulls away from the scene of the collision.

“Let’s hope your insurance covers it.” 

“Mmhmm.” 

“You’re not going to go to sleep on me, are you?” says Serena, glancing across at her.

“Me? No, I’m in too much pain.”

“Good. I don’t think you should sleep until we’ve clearly established whether or not you’re concussed.”

“No, I know.”

“Of course you do. Sorry.”

“It’s fine, Serena. I appreciate you taking care of me like this. I’m not sure what I’ve done to deserve such kindness when we hardly know each other, but I’m grateful.”

“I’d have done the same for anyone.”

“Really?” Bernie asks curiously. “You’d have brought someone you didn’t know home with you, rather than sending them to the ED, even on a wet and windy Friday afternoon?”

Serena chuckles. “Okay, you got me. I would’ve sent someone I didn’t know at all to the ED. But I do know you.”

Bernie chuckles. “Can you say you know me when we’re performed exactly two surgeries together and had one drink at _Albie’s_?”

“Well, I know that you’re a fantastic, fearless trauma surgeon who’s capable of successfully performing an atriocaval shunt. I know you’re divorced and a mother of two grown up children. I know you prefer white wine to red, and let me tell you, that’s almost a heresy in my book.”

Bernie chuckles again at this remark.

Serena flashes a grin at her. “I also know that you prefer whisky to wine. And finally, I know that you don’t have a cat despite being a lesbian.”

“Then we’re practically bosom buddies,” Bernie says with a smirk. 

“That we are.”

Bernie asks after Serena’s nephew Jason and learns about her daughter Elinor, as well, while Serena takes the long way around to arrive back at her large, detached house in a very smart suburb of Holby City. 

Serena pulls into the garage and they both sigh with relief at being in out of the heavy winter storm that’s been raging all day. She leads the way into the house where they shed their shoes and coats, hanging the latter on the row of hooks that’s affixed above a shoe rack, where they deposit their shoes.

“Cup of tea?” Serena asks as she leads Bernie down the hall and into a warm kitchen that feels surprisingly cosy despite its size.

“I could murder a cuppa,” Bernie agrees cheerfully.

Serena chuckles, then gestures at the table. “Take a seat.” She goes to fill the kettle, then asks, “How about a slice of Christmas cake?”

“Oh, yes please. I missed lunch as I was in surgery on Darwin and I forgot to go to _Pulses_ for a sandwich later on.”

“Well, that’s not good,” Serena observes immediately. “Let me make you a sandwich.”

Bernie’s about to refuse when her stomach gurgles embarrassingly loudly in the quiet of the kitchen, which makes Serena laugh, which sets Bernie off, too. Her ‘goose honk’ proves irresistible and Serena, with one arm across her midriff, ends up clinging to the back of one of the chairs in an effort to stop herself from falling over. 

Eventually they manage to calm themselves down, wiping tears of laughter from their eyes as they look at each other across the kitchen table. There’s a good deal of warmth and even, dare she think it, fondness in Serena’s eyes, and it makes Bernie properly acknowledge to herself how gorgeous and attractive to Bernie her new friend is. She may have only worked with the brunette on a couple of occasions, but she’s seen her around the hospital in her role as deputy CEO often enough and she has always been aware of how effortlessly elegant Serena appears, unlike Bernie herself, who is too gangling of limb to manage elegant without a good deal of effort that she’s not prepared to put in when she’s dealing with cutting open patients on a daily basis.

“A sandwich would be a timely addition to the slice of Christmas cake, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Serena switches on the kettle, then gets out a couple of mugs, one with a swirly silver S on it, the other with World’s Greatest Surgeon written on it. The latter makes Bernie arch her eyebrows at Serena, who smirks, then says, “Shush you.”

“I said nothing,” Bernie says, raising both hands, palms outward in a gesture of surrender.

“I could hear you thinking it. It was a gag gift in the Secret Santa a couple of years ago. Ric Griffin got it for me.”

That makes Bernie chuckle again and they discuss Ric Griffin, with whom Bernie has occasionally butted heads since arriving at Holby, while Serena prepares what’s essentially a late lunch for her. Bernie would object but breakfast was a long time ago and she’s definitely feeling a dip in her blood sugar levels. 

“Thank you for this, Serena,” she says as the brunette sets a plate down in front of her on which sits a ham and cheese salad sandwich made with thickly sliced crusty bread slathered in butter and layered with slices of ham, strong Cheddar, lettuce, and slices of cucumber, all topped with slices of tomato. Next she sets down a second plate holding a substantial slice of Christmas cake, together with a mug of strong tea.

“Enjoy it,” Serena says with a warm smile.

“I’m sure I shall,” Bernie says, smiling back with equal warmth. Serena puts the radio on and something classical plays in the background as she sits down opposite Bernie with a slightly less substantial slice of Christmas cake and her own mug of tea. They eat in a companionable silence and Bernie feels her nerves, which have been jangling since the collision, settling down in the cosy atmosphere of Serena’s kitchen. 

As she eats her sandwich Bernie tries to recall a time when she’s ever felt so instantly at ease with someone new, and fails; not with her ex-husband, Marcus, nor with Alex, her first (and so far only) woman lover. She’s almost finished eating her sandwich and is still trying to recall when she’s felt such ease between herself and a new friend when it occurs to her that she’s compared her relationship with Serena to the relationships she’d had with her ex-husband and her ex-lover. It sends a shiver of excitement down her spine, the realisation that subconsciously she’s thinking of Serena in terms of a potential romantic partner. She doesn’t immediately dismiss the idea because she knows that Serena is bisexual and therefore might be open to taking their current, newly developing friendship further. 

“Bernie. Are you okay?” Serena asks.

Bernie realises that she’s been so lost in her own thoughts she’s been sitting with her half drunk mug of tea cradled between her hands, her elbows resting on the table on either side of the plate holding a scattering of cake crumbs and gazing abstractedly at Serena.

“Yes. Sorry, got lost in my head for a bit there.”

Serena smirks. “Don’t think I didn’t notice,” she says in a teasing tone. “I had to say your name twice before you responded.”

“Sorry,” Bernie says. Then she claps a hand over her mouth to stifle a yawn. “Sorry again. I didn’t realise I was that tired. I should see about getting home.”

“Don’t!” Serena says abruptly, then she adds, “Stay. Please.”

Bernie raises both eyebrows at her. “Stay?” she repeats, wondering if she’s merely imagining the intensity in Serena’s voice.

“Yes. Rather than going back out in that storm, stay the night here. I’ve got a couple of guest rooms that you can pick from. And I can give you a spare toothbrush – Ellie’s always forgetting to bring hers with her when she comes home for a visit, so I keep spares in my bathroom cabinet. I can even lend you some clothes to sleep in.”

“Thank you,” Bernie murmurs. A small part of her thinks she should refuse any further hospitality from Serena, but the weary rest of her shouts down that small part. “I appreciate the offer.” She yawns again. 

“Good. How’s the headache?”

“Eased off a bit, thankfully.” She checks the time on her watch. “And now I can take some more painkillers, which should hopefully see it off altogether.”

“Okay.” Serena gets up and fetches a glass of water, and Bernie feels a tingle of electricity pass between them when her fingers brush against the brunette’s as she accepts the glass from her.

“Thanks.” She fishes the bottle of prescription painkillers from her satchel and takes a couple with a swallow of water, then drinks a couple more mouthfuls before setting the glass down.

“Would you like to take a shower or have a bath?” Serena asks, a little diffidently, Bernie notices. “I’m not sure how much you’re aching after that collision, but it might help.”

“I’m not aching as much as I might be, but a bath sounds lovely, thank you.”

“Would you like to have it now? I was just thinking, since Jason’s not here, that we could change into our pyjamas or equivalent, and watch something on TV, and later we can order a takeaway. If you’re amenable?”

“That sounds like an excellent plan, Ms Campbell,” Bernie says with a grin, pleased by the prospect of such a cosy evening.

“Good. Come on then, I’ll show you where everything is and find you some towels and some pyjamas. You can leave your satchel in the guest room if you like.”

“Thank you, Serena. It’s incredibly kind of you to offer me your hospitality.”

“You’re welcome.” Serena leads the way upstairs. “Besides, I do have an ulterior motive.”

“Oh?” Bernie feels a frisson of excitement at this pronouncement. “Which is?”

“Well, to get to know you better and to enjoy the company of someone who isn’t totally obsessed with _Countdown_ and _The World’s Strongest Man_. Don’t get me wrong, I love Jason dearly, but it’ll be a nice change to watch something different tonight.”

Bernie laughs at this. “Then I’m glad to stay and keep you company.” They reach the top of the stairs and she dares to touch Serena’s arm as they pause there. “I’d very much enjoy getting to know you better, too.”

“Good. Come on, then, let’s find you a room.”

Serena shows Bernie two rooms, both of which appear very welcoming with comfortable looking beds. She picks the one next to Serena’s, rather than the one between Ellie’s and Jason’s, and sets her satchel down on the seat of the armchair by the window.

“Oh, let’s shut it out,” Serena says. “It’s getting dark anyway.” She steps to Bernie’s side and they each grab a curtain and draw it across, blocking the view of the storm lashed trees on the far side of the garden. “There, that’s better.” 

As Serena steps away, their arms and shoulders brush against each other and Bernie feels the by now familiar tingle of excitement within her at these touches. She wants to say something but holds back, deciding it’s a little too soon to be declaring her feelings: Serena might assume that it’s only a consequence of banging her head.

“Listen, would you mind using my ensuite bathroom, rather than the main one? It’s just that Jason, because of his Asperger’s, is very particular about what goes where, and he will get terribly upset if any of his things are moved around, even a little.”

“I don’t mind at all, Serena,” Bernie says immediately. “I’ve no desire to upset Jason in any way.”

“Thanks. Come through, then, and I’ll get you some towels, and find you something to wear. I’m not sure if my pyjamas will fit you since you’re rather more slender than I am.”

Bernie chuckles. “I’m a stick insect.”

“Oh, no. No, you’re not. You’re very slim and – well, gorgeous.” Serena’s hand is clutching at her pendant and sliding it back and forth along the chain. Bernie reaches out and clasps her hand, squeezing it gently.

“Thank you,” she says softly. “I consider you gorgeous, too.”

“You – you do?”

Bernie smiles softly. “Definitely.” She draws Serena’s hand away from her pendant and presses a kiss to her knuckles. “You’ve got curves for days, which is something I find very attractive.”

“Oh.” Serena barely breathes the word, then she steps in close, wrapping her arms around Bernie and embracing her tightly. “Thank you,” she murmurs. “I, um, I find you very attractive, too.” 

Bernie flushes with desire, but she doesn’t try to act on it as she doesn’t want to scare Serena off. She simply returns the other woman’s embrace and tries to keep her heart from racing with excitement. 

Eventually Serena steps back, loosening her hold on Bernie, and gives her a tentative smile. “Okay?”

“Definitely okay,” Bernie agrees. Then yawns, doing her best to stifle it in her shoulder since her arms are still around Serena.

The brunette chuckles. “Come on then, soldier, let’s get you sorted for a bath.”

“Thanks.”

Serena smiles, brushes her lips lightly against Bernie’s, then moves away, her arms dropping from around the blonde’s body. Then she reaches out and tangles her fingers with Bernie’s, giving her hand a light tug. “Come on.”

Bernie follows Serena into her bedroom, which is clearly the master bedroom of the house. It’s dominated by a large bed with luxurious bedding and pillows; there are two armchairs facing the window; there’s a large wardrobe along one wall and ranged against the wall opposite is a very pretty dressing table with an oak chest of drawers alongside it.

“You have a lovely room,” Bernie says, and Serena gives her a pleased smile.

“Thank you. The ensuite is through there, so why don’t you go on through and I’ll find you some clothes and some towels.”

“Thanks.”

Bernie crosses the room and enters a bathroom that’s as opulent as Serena’s bedroom, which is no surprise. She’s already realised that the other woman likes her creature comforts. She sits on the closed lid of the toilet and pulls off her socks, enjoying the feeling of the thick pile of the bathroom rug under her toes, then she stands up and pulls off her sweater. 

Serena knocks on the half open door and Bernie gives her a smile, then accepts the bundle of clothing she holds that turns out to be a pair of grey, fleece lined jogging trousers with an elasticated waist, a grey t-shirt, and a red fleece lined Harvard hooded top. 

“I wasn’t sure how warm you’d be in just the t-shirt while we’re sitting downstairs, even with the central heating on, so I thought I’d add the hooded top.”

“Thank you,” Bernie says sincerely. “I must admit that I haven’t really adjusted, yet, to English winters after so many years serving in Iraq and Afghanistan.”

Serena nods. “And towels,” she says, hanging them on what Bernie suspects are heated towel rails. 

“Thanks.”

“Take as long as you like in the bath.”

“Thank you. If I’m not downstairs in half an hour, please come and get me, though. I really don’t want to fall asleep in the bath as it won’t help my back.”

“Duly noted,” Serena says with a soft chuckle. “I’ll leave you to it. Oh, and if you want it, there’s some Radox salts in the cabinet above the sink.”

“That’s a good idea.”

Serena nods, then backs out, pulling the door closed behind her. Bernie puts the plug in the bathtub, turns on the taps, then finds the Radox bath salts and adds some to the water. Then she finishes stripping out of her clothes, before climbing into the bath with a soft moan of appreciation. While her new house boasts a bath in the bathroom, Bernie rarely indulges, preferring the speed and efficiency of a shower in the mornings, but she thinks she might have to make the effort to have a bath on those days when she’s not working.

Somehow she manages not to doze off to sleep and she’s just pulling on the Harvard hooded top when Serena knocks on the bathroom door. Bernie opens it, then smiles when the brunette holds out some slipper socks. 

“Cute,” Bernie says when she sees the cats on the toes.

“Ellie bought them for me years ago as part of a Mother’s Day present.” 

Bernie pulls them onto her feet, then gathers up her discarded clothing and carries it through to the guest room before following Serena downstairs to the sitting room. 

“Do you want some more tea, or would you prefer some hot chocolate?”

“Oh! Hot chocolate, please.” 

“Okay. You take a seat on the sofa and I’ll bring it through.”

Bernie takes a few moments to take a look around the big sitting room. It still has a functional fireplace, despite the central heating; although given the size of the room, the fireplace is probably a good thing when the weather’s cold. There are thick green velvet curtains at the window, which is a bay window with a cosy looking window seat in it. There’s a Christmas tree in one corner, fully garlanded with tinsel, fairy lights, and baubles. A pine branch is lying along the top of the mantelpiece, with sprigs of holly and bunches of mistletoe ranged at intervals between fat cinnamon and apple scented candles, which Serena has lit. Along the wall opposite the window are bookcases filled with books, medical journals, DVDs, and CDs. There’s even a half shelf of vinyl records, too. 

Despite the size of the room, it strikes Bernie as very cosy and inviting; it has a lived in feeling, too, that she finds comforting. She settles on the sofa, picking the right hand side since the end table by the left arm has two issues of _The Lancet_ on it, plus a pair of what Bernie guesses are reading glasses, and she suspects that this is Serena’s preferred seat.

Moments after Bernie’s seated herself the brunette comes in carrying a tray, which it’s revealed holds two mugs of hot chocolate with marshmallows floating on the top, and a plate holding a stack of gingerbread Santas, plus a couple of icing topped mince pies. There are also two rolled up napkins that have been slid through carved wooden napkin rings that Bernie suspects Serena has inherited from someone, given how old they look.

“I shall suspect you of trying to fatten me up,” Bernie teases as Serena sets the tray down on the coffee table, then sits down.

“Oh hush, you can stand to eat a few more calories.”

“Well, I guess if I keep up the running, I’ll soon burn them off.”

“You run?” Serena says, sounding so appalled that Bernie can’t help laughing.

“I do. Are you going to disown me now, Campbell?”

“Nah,” Serena says, leaning her shoulder against Bernie’s. “I like you too much to do that.”

“Good to know.”

Serena reaches forward and grabs a napkin, passing it to Bernie, then hands her a mug of hot chocolate once the napkin’s unrolled and spread on her lap. She grabs the plate of Christmas treats and Bernie selects a couple of Santas, setting them on the napkin, then takes one of the mince pies at Serena’s urging. 

“What would you like to watch?” she asks.

“Something featuring Robin Williams, please. I haven’t seen any of his films for years and I was really saddened when I found out he’d died.”

“Okay.” Serena pokes at the television via the remote and finds that _Mrs Doubtfire_ is on. They settle down together to watch, Serena spreading a blanket over their laps. Bernie realises that she feels content, as she hasn’t done for years. It’s a satisfying feeling and she allows herself to revel in it, enjoying the warmth and cosiness of watching a film with Serena while eating gingerbread Santas and drinking hot chocolate. While she’s not happy about the fallen tree that led to her car colliding with another tree, she is grateful for this chance to spend time with Serena, knowing they’re attracted to each other and looking forward to exploring that attraction. She feels hopeful about the future.


End file.
